“Even!” said Marcus, staring at the man. “Do you mean about both being hungry?”
“Nay–y–y–ay! About being wicked uns. You’ve done wrong, you know, and disobeyed orders.”
“Yes,” said Marcus, with a sigh.
“So have I. Well, we are both in disgrace, and that makes us even; so, of course, I can’t bully you any more and you can’t say ugly things to me. Fair play’s the thing, isn’t it?”
“Of course,” cried Marcus.
“Well, then, as you’ve behaved uncommon fine in tackling those rough ones, and saved my life—”
“Oh no,” said Marcus, modestly.
“But I say, oh yes. Don’t you talk to me. They’d have killed me dead, stripped off everything that was worth taking, and then left my body to the wolves.”
Marcus recalled the words of the speaker of his wandering away up the mountains to lie down and die, and he felt ready to say: “Well, that would have suited you;” but he thought it better not, and held his tongue.
“As I said before, you have behaved uncommonly well over that, so I’ll forgive you for running away, and shake hands, if you’ll agree to say nothing more about it to me.”